


Potions Partners

by GingerFerret



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: An Ample Amount of Blushing, Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Competition, Compliments Game, First Kiss, Fluff, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, POV Alternating, Post War, Potions, Rivalry, forced to work together, oblivious boys, potions partners
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 14:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11557260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerFerret/pseuds/GingerFerret
Summary: Harry and Draco are forced to pair up in Potions. Needless to say, neither are happy with this arrangement. But what happens, when their innate need for competing against each other, makes for a whole new way of interacting? Clue: a lot of blushing and awkwardness.





	Potions Partners

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoy :) Kudos and comments make me happy <3

"Are you trying to ruin this on purpose, or are you _actually_ that stupid?"

Harry glared at the contemptuous Slytherin by his side. He was _this_ close to flinging a handful of the crushed beetle wings at his sneering face. Instead, he growled, "What now?!" and stared into the cauldron where everything seemed to be fine. 

Malfoy sighed, annoyed, and tapped his finger on the textbook in front of them. "It says: stir seventeen times _anti-clockwise_!" 

"Yeah, so?" Harry looked at the now fuming blond and shrugged. A vivid pink began to spread across those pale cheeks. 

"You're stirring _clockwise,_ you complete imbecile!"

Harry didn't even have time to rebut, before a purple cloud puffed up from the cauldron. He was pretty sure the potion wasn't supposed to do that...

"Ah, well done, Potter. You've managed to singlehandedly ruin our assignment. I suppose that is quite a feat in itself, and had you not been _my_ assigned Potions partner, I'm sure I would have taken great pleasure in your utter uselessness." He threw his gloves, which he had peeled off his long, slender hands while delivering his little speech, onto the open textbook, and sniffed. "I'm out of here."

With that, he turned around on his heel and strode out of the Potions classroom, leaving Harry alone, wafting vaguely at the purple smoke now billowing from the ruined potion. He caught Hermione's eye across the room and shrugged feebly at her exasperated expression. 

It wasn't that he ruined the potion on _purpose_. It was more that, working with Malfoy brought out the worst in him, and _perhaps_ he took a little too much pleasure in annoying the snooty git whenever he got the chance. Assigning them Potions partners hadn't been Slughorn's brightest idea, and to be honest, Harry suspected that the headmistress was behind it all in an attempt at House Unity. Harry was all for the project - he just wished, he didn't have to suffer through hours of Malfoy's company in the name of unity.

Hermione had lectured him on the importance of moving on and letting old wounds heal, but Harry suspected that her newfound lenience had a lot to do with the fact that she herself, had been partnered with a brilliant Ravenclaw by the name of Cecilia. No old wounds in need of healing there. 

If Malfoy hadn't taken it upon himself to treat Harry like an imbecile every time they worked together, he probably wouldn't have provoked the bastard. As it was, they were now caught up in an antagonistic relationship much similar to the one they enjoyed before the war. 

Harry sighed and Vanished the contents of the cauldron. 

 

\---

 

"Professor, I need another lab partner."

Draco stood rigidly before the Potions professor in his overly furnished office, only an hour after Potter had destroyed their latest project. 

Slughorn glanced up from the dusty tome laid out on his desk to peer at Draco with watery eyes. He seemed at bit bewildered, and Draco set his jaw in determination. 

"Potter and I seem destined to ruin everything we work on together." He battled internally with himself before adding, "I'm not saying that it is Potter's fault...entirely. But our... _differences_ make collaborating impossible, I'm afraid. Therefore, I would be much obliged, sir, if you would be so kind as to assign me a new parter."

Draco schooled his features into something he hoped would come across as less desperate than he felt. The professor frowned and leaned back in his chair. 

"Yes...well, I won't pretend that I haven't noticed that the two of you seem to be somewhat...incompatible." 

Draco resisted a sigh of relief...

"However," Slughorn continued, interlacing his stubby fingers, and Draco felt his heart sink, "I pride myself of being an optimistic soul, and I honesty believe that working past one's differences and learning to cooperate, is one of the most valuable lessons in life."

Draco closed his eyes in defeat. This was insufferable. Being forced to work with someone as incompetent as Potter - being forced to work with _Potter_ , period - was a punishment too steep even for Draco's' misdeeds. Eight more months of this would lead to the death of at least one of them. Even if it ended up being Draco jumping headfirst into a cauldron full of Draught of Living Death. 

"Sir. I do not doubt the infinity of your wisdom, but I don't think you grasp the severity of our dislike for each other. Our _differences_ go beyond those of school rivalry, and I dare say it will be impossible to work past them. Sir." Draco knew he was out of line, but this was a matter of life and death. 

The Potions professor frowned and sat up straight. "My dear boy. I can assure you that I have witnessed animosity that surpasses school rivalry in several instances, and this is _not_ one of them. The two of you will learn to work together, and that is my final word on this. And may I suggest that you do so quickly, unless you want your marks to suffer any more than they already do. Good day. "

Draco felt his cheeks burn, but whether from anger or embarrassment, he wasn't sure. He nodded stiffly, turned around and left with as much dignity in his step as he could muster. 

 

\---

 

Harry was carefully grinding the porcupine quills for the Draught of Peace simmering over the fire the following Wednesday, when he felt someone hovering over his shoulder. He turned his head slightly and found himself staring at Malfoy's nose, far too close for comfort. He resisted the urge to shift away, and instead returned to the task of powdering the quills, still acutely aware of the close proximity of the Slytherin. 

"Did you want something, Malfoy?" He worked steadily with the pestle, not moving an inch even though he could feel the other man's warm breath ghosting against his neck. He suppressed a shudder. 

The Slytherin hummed. "That looks...alright, actually." He sniffed. "Good work, Potter." The next second he was back in his seat, measuring syrup of hellebore. Harry was stunned into silence. Had Malfoy just paid him a compliment? That was just too strange to be real. Something must be amiss. Harry cleared his throat. 

"Malfoy, are you alright..?"

The blond looked up from his measuring cup with an innocuous expression. "Of course I'm alright. Why wouldn't I be?" 

For a few seconds, Harry could do nothing but stare in disbelief at his Potions partner. Then he shook his head slightly. "Eh, no reason. And...thanks..?" He looked uncertainly at the other man, who _smiled_ slightly and said "Of course", as though a sensation had not just taken place. Harry felt his jaw drop. If this was some sort of ploy on the Slytherin's part, Harry wasn't sure what he expected to gain from it. Feeling slightly uneasy, he continued to prepare the remaining ingredients. If this was part of a more sinister plan of Malfoy's, Harry would discover soon enough. 

By the end of the double lesson, the pair of them had produced a perfect batch of Draught of Peace. Harry was mildly shocked. Not a single nasty word had passed between them all afternoon, and Harry didn't know what to make of it. Had Malfoy been in an accident that made him forget that he hated Harry with a passion? Had he imbibed a potion designed to make rivals appear like neutral acquaintances? Harry had no idea, but he intended to find out. 

The Slytherin had just reached the staircase, when Harry caught up to him. "Malfoy, wait a minute will you?" Harry hadn't really prepared what to say, so for a while he just stood there, while Malfoy looked at him with an aloof expression. "Eh..." Harry said, uncertain. The blond quirked an eyebrow. 

"Yes, Potter?"

Harry cleared his throat and tried again. "Well, I was just wondering, why you were so...ehh...nice...to me today...?" He fidgeted with a button on his shirt, realizing the oddity of such a question. Malfoy's other eyebrow followed the first. 

"Are you complaining?"

Harry fidgeted some more. "No! I'm definitely not complaining. Just...wondering. I mean, we haven't exactly had an amiable partnership in Potions up until now, so - what changed..?" 

Now it was Malfoy's turn to look uncertain, though he did so with an air of superiority. "To be perfectly honest, I asked the professor to partner me up with someone else." 

Harry felt a stab of something that felt like betrayal. He wouldn't deny that he himself would have loved to work with someone else, but he would never have gone behind Malfoy's back about it. It felt...wrong. 

"Oh..." Harry felt a little winded and couldn't come up with a better response at the moment. The Slytherin didn't look directly at him, but Harry noticed that his cheeks had turned slightly pink. "So? Did he?"

The blond sniffed and stood a little straighter. "No. He told me that the two of us will have to learn to work together. And since I can't afford less than an Outstanding in Potions, I have come to terms with having to be...friendly...with you." For a moment he looked as if he had sucked on a lemon. Then he stared directly at Harry and wrinkled his nose."Of course, I have my limitations, and I expect _you_ to be equally civil if this is ever going to have a chance to work." He sniffed again and looked at Harry with a challenge in his eyes. "Do you oppose?" 

There was silence for a moment. Harry had never been one to refuse a challenge - and certainly not one from Malfoy. If the Slytherin wanted civility, he would get it. Harry raised his chin and looked Malfoy straight in the eye. 

"No. I don't. Consider it done."

Malfoy's eyes twinkled with something mischievous, and Harry knew it: the game was _on_.

 

\---

 

It was Thursday afternoon before Harry crossed paths with Malfoy again. After lunch, he had decided to visit Hagrid in his free period before Herbology. It was a lovely day in early November, and Harry was excited at the prospect of talking to Hagrid, as he had hardly seen him since the start of term. On the way to the gamekeeper's hut, Harry was daydreaming in the surprisingly warm weather, not paying sufficient attention to where he put his feet. 

"Oi! Potter, you utter troll - look where you're going!" 

Harry stopped abruptly in his tracks, startled out of his reverie. Malfoy stood in front of him with an angry sneer, the books he had been carrying now spread out on the grass between them, after Harry had apparently walked straight into him. 

"Well, I'm _sorry_ Malfoy, but perhaps if you didn't have such long _feet_..." Harry trailed off, suddenly remembering that they had a competition going. One that he intended to win. He plastered an apologetic smile onto his face. "Actually, it was all my fault, and I apologize. I'm a bit clumsy sometimes. Here, let me get your books for you." He bent down and picked up Malfoy's Astronomy textbooks and handed them to him. 

Malfoy seemed to be momentarily rendered speechless. But it was a matter of seconds before he caught on, giving Harry a brilliant smile, only rivaled by the ones Lockhart used to aim at adoring female fans. "Oh, that's quite alright, Potter. Could happen to the best of us." He accepted the books from Harry with a polite nod and strolled off towards the castle. 

Harry couldn't suppress a giggle as he watched Malfoy walk away from him, so rigid, Harry was sure he was spewing profanities he wished he could have aimed at Harry's face. 

Harry felt oddly elated at the prospect of winding up Malfoy with kindness. It would be so easy. 

 

\---

 

When Friday arrived, bringing with it another double lesson of Potions, Draco felt slightly nervous. Being friendly towards Potter during their previous project had been fun, since he took the Gryffindor by surprise and was rewarded with an ample amount of perplexity and stunned expressions from the idiot. Now that he was on to it, and probably considered it as much of a competition as Draco did, who knew what to expect? Their run-in yesterday had certainly been less than satisfactory. Draco had _ached_ to put the git in his place, but not at the expense of losing points. And Draco kept score. He had to proceed with caution and cunning...

"What are you thinking about?" Pansy leaned into him at the Slytherin table, where Draco had been buttering the same piece of toast for two minutes. He huffed and shook her off. "Well, _excuse me_..." she sniffed with a lifted eyebrow. "Is it Potter?" Draco whipped his head around to stare at her. He hadn't told anyone about his new game with the Gryffindor. Pansy shrugged. "It's always Potter." She smiled wryly. "Does he keep ruining your potions?" Draco felt relieved. He hadn't known up until just now, but he didn't want anyone to know about their little contest. It was to be between the two of them and no one else. He sighed. 

"The man is utterly useless. It's a wonder he is able to stand upright without assistance."

Pansy giggled and patted his shoulder. "You'll be alright, darling. The two of you just need to learn to work together. He can't be as dumb as he looks. Otherwise, the war would have ended quite differently." She winked, and Draco felt stunned. Was _Pansy_ , who had attempted to sell out Potter to Voldemort, telling Draco that she _approved_ of the two of them being paired up? And suggesting that they _cooperate_?! This was preposterous! His face must have expressed his feelings, because Pansy rolled her eyes and said: "Give me a break, Draco. The war is over! There's no use in the two of you being at each other's throats anymore. It's pathetic, really." 

Draco was scandalized. _Pathetic_?! How dare she! 

"Pansy! I'll have you know that Potter and I will _always_ be enemies. No amount of time or Potions projects will ever change that. Which you will do well to remember!" 

He hadn't told anyone how Potter had rescued him in the Room of Hidden Things. He could hardly admit it to himself, even though it had been just about the only thing he could think of in the months after the war. Most nights during the past year, he had woken up with a jolt, still feeling the solidity of the Gryffindor's back, as he had grasped onto him desperately while they flew through the roaring flames of the Fiendfire. Nor had he let anyone know, how he had pretended not to recognize Potter at Malfoy Manor. Saving each other's lives might have changed things between most people - but he and Potter were not most people. They didn't know any other way to be around each other, and though it might seem ridiculous to others - to Draco, it meant comfort. So much in his life had been turned upside down. If keeping up a childish rivalry with Potter meant that _something_ at least stayed the same, Draco was not about to change that. He had an inkling Potter felt the same way. So, by silent agreement, they had continued where they left off. 

Pansy just sighed and shook her head, her black bob fanning around her face. "Suit yourself, Draco. Just remember you heard this from me first: people change. If you don't keep up, you'll be the only one left behind." She gave him a thin smile and turned her attention back to her breakfast. 

Draco stared at her with a feeling of slight unease. Could she be right? Was he in danger of being stuck in the past, while everyone around him accommodated to a new world? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. 

Best not to dwell on it right now. Potions with Potter awaited, and Draco had to remain focused if he were to come out on top...so to speak. 

 

\---

 

"That's a really good colour on you, Malfoy." 

Harry giggled inwardly at the chocked expression on the Slytherin's face. 

"It makes your eyes look almost blue." Harry smiled innocently. The perplexed blond in front of him ran a hand down the front of his perfectly pressed sky blue shirt, before he regained his composure and smirked back. 

"Thank you for noticing, Potter. You look quite nice yourself today." 

He gave Harry a once-over and pursed his lips. Harry had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. His Chudley Cannons t-shirt was quite worn and a bit too tight. A far cry from anything Malfoy would deem appropriate or even wearable in public. The Slytherin looked decidedly relieved, when Harry put on his apron. 

"So, Love Potion Antidote today." Harry leafed through the textbook until he reached the relevant page. "Ah, here it is. We need...Wiggentree twigs...extract of Gurdyroot, and..."

"Yes, I'm aware, Potter, I can _read_." Malfoy's lips curled in a little smile, making it impossible for Harry to deduct points. Well, if the Slytherin wanted it _that_ way, Harry was all for upping the ante. He smiled back, adding a wink just to see how the other man would react. 

Harry had been prepared for a sneer, a laugh, annoyance, or even retaliation. What he hadn't anticipated, was the fiercely blushing pureblood in front of him, now fidgeting violently with a glass stirring rod to the point where it broke in two. 

Interesting... 

Harry filed it away for later contemplation and went to the storage room for ingredients. When he came back to the workstation he and Malfoy shared, the latter was carefully setting the flame under the cauldron to the right strength. Harry pretended not to notice the way the tips of his ears went red again beneath his white blond hair. He inwardly congratulated himself on getting one over on the arrogant tit. 

For the remainder of the double lesson, Harry amused himself with renewing Malfoy's blush by nothing more than a prolonged smile, every time the blond dared a glance his way. Harry was so going to win this game. 

 

\---

 

Draco was furious. How the _hell_ could he have allowed that idiotic Gryffindor to run the show for two bloody hours?! Was he not a Slytherin, and thus inherently a master of manipulation and cunning?! And _why, oh, why_ had his apparently untrustworthy body reacted, in a way he was _not_ ready to contemplate, to a simple _wink_?! Those bloody warm, green eyes! 

This was unacceptable. That nest-haired, green-eyed, broad-grinning....annoying _twat_ , would not get the better of him again. Oh, no. It was time for Draco to lose the kid gloves and hit Potter with all of his combined charm and gallantry. 

The git wouldn't know what hit him. 

 

\---

 

When Harry practically sprinted into the Potions classroom the following Wednesday, almost five minutes late, it was to find his Potions partner sitting peacefully at their shared workstation, crushing berries. As Harry plopped down onto his stool with a sigh, the Slytherin turned his head to look at him. 

"Hello, Potter. I'm glad you're here, it's so tedious working alone." The corners of his mouth turned upwards - not in a smirk, but in a real, genuine-looking _smile_. It even reached his silvery eyes. 

Harry's ears went warm. He wasn't prepared for this. Malfoy and genuine friendliness didn't go together in Harry's mind. Especially not when it was directed at him. It was rather disconcerting. The blond was getting too good at this game. If Harry wasn't careful, _he_ would end up being the one killed with kindness, since Malfoy could apparently be pretty damned charming if he chose to. 

Harry cleared his throat. "It's nice to see you too. Sorry I'm late. I had to go to my room to change my shirt after an accident at lunch."

Malfoy's eyebrows shot up, and he looked amused. "I wouldn't have taken you for someone prone to lunch-related accidents, Potter." And there was that smile again. The one that made his eyes crinkle and his face look soft. 

Harry hurriedly looked away. Things had taken a very weird turn in no time at all. "Eh, so...what are we doing today?" He busied himself with putting on his apron, not daring to look at this new and scary Malfoy again. 

"First step of the Wiggenweld Potion. I've just started juicing the Boom Berries. You can start on the Moondew, if you like." 

Harry just nodded and set to work. 

They had been working in peace and quiet for an hour, when Malfoy reached across the table for a knife. Normally, he would have asked Harry to pass it to him, since it was lying on the opposite side of his chopping block, but this competition to the death made for all sorts of new and disturbing scenarios. Even so, Harry wasn't prepared for the whiff of Malfoy's expensive cologne that wafted up from his shirt collar, as he _leaned_ in front of Harry - so close that his hair tickled the Gryffindor's cheek. The whole thing lasted no more than two and a half seconds, including Malfoy's mumbled "Excuse me", but it was apparently enough for Harry's hormones to go into overdrive. 

What the hell was happening?! Malfoy's scent and closeness was _not_ supposed to send such unambiguous signals to Harry's groin! Oh, Merlin. This was so confusing. If things continued in this manner, Harry would lose this game in more ways than one. 

 

\---

 

Late that afternoon, Harry took a walk at the edge of the forest by himself. The air was cold and clear and oddly soothing to his troubled mind. 

His reaction to Malfoy earlier that day should not have come as a surprise. Even though he had tried his best to suppress the thought when it occurred, he had not been able to let go of the memory of Malfoy holding on to him for dear life during their wild ride through the flames of the Fiendfire. Of course, it would only be natural to want to forget an awful experience like that. 

But it wasn't just because of the horrible circumstances of that broom ride that Harry wanted to leave it in the past. In no small part, it was due to how Malfoy's arms had felt around him. The memory of his whole front pressed hard against Harry's back still sent shivers down his spine; and not in a bad way. 

If he were to be honest with himself, his preoccupation with the Slytherin had not started after that flight. It had begun years before. Surely, at first, he had disliked him - even thought he hated him for a long while. But, looking back, that was only true until sixth year. When Malfoy had gone from acting like a spoiled, arrogant, bigoted prat, to being scared, alone and desperate. Harry hadn't known it at the time, but in retrospect, what he had felt for Malfoy, was compassion. And when you are able to feel compassion for someone, it gets much easier to see what they could be, if they had the chance to step out from someone else's shadow and be their own person. 

And Harry had been looking ever since. 

He knew how Malfoy's hair looked almost like a halo, when the sunlight hit it just right. The way his nose wrinkled daintily, when he was focused on something he found difficult. He had seen, how Malfoy no longer bullied anyone, and how he stayed more to himself than interacting with the other returning Eigth-year Slytherins. And, most of all, Harry had discovered that the changes he saw in Malfoy, had an impact on Harry himself that he hadn't been willing to look at. Until now, when it practically screamed at him. 

Harry was falling for him. It was such a mess. There was no way that Malfoy would ever feel the same about Harry. Not a chance. He knew that. 

He sighed and sat down on a boulder to watch the sun set over the mountains. 

 

\---

 

Draco felt great. With nearly no effort, he had succeeded in reducing the idiot Gryffindor to a mute, blushing wreck for the entirety of their double lesson yesterday. He felt like celebrating. 

Gone was the memory of the previous Friday, when it had been Draco, who.... No need to dwell on that! One needed to look forward, and in that direction lay breakfast. 

Draco headed for the Great Hall with a spring in his step and a crisp "Good morning!" for anyone he passed. 

After breakfast, however, one was best advised to give the Slytherin a wide birth, as he was now fuming with anger and embarrassment. Pansy did her best to keep up with him as he stormed through the castle. "Draco, wait! What is the matter?" She panted slightly and pulled at his sleeve to make him slow down. She ran straight into him, when he stopped abruptly. 

"What?!" 

Pansy speared him with a gaze that told him she would not tolerate any nonsense. Draco sighed and deflated. 

"Is it Potter? Again." Pansy looked half exasperated, half amused. 

Draco pouted. "He's just so _annoying_! Apparently he can't leave me alone for two minutes. Didn't you notice the way he kept _smiling_ at me across the Hall? It's _embarrassing_!" he whinged. 

Pansy sniggered. "Well, Draco, to be honest, what _I_ noticed, was the way _you_ seemed unable to keep your eyes away from the Gryffindor table. Or should I say _Potter_...?" she raised a perfectly groomed eyebrow and smiled crookedly. 

Draco was aghast. So, maybe he had been a bit preoccupied with what went on in Potter's general direction, but that was only natural, when one considered their competition, and hence the need to be prepared for any oncoming civility on the Gryffindor's part. Of course, he couldn't tell Pansy that without letting her know, what was going on, and despite everything, Draco still wanted to keep it between Potter and himself. He hadn't questioned that decision once and wasn't about to do so now. 

"Pansy. You wouldn't understand."

Pansy rolled her eyes "If you say so, Draco" and went in the opposite direction. 

 

\---

 

Harry was nervous. It was one thing to try to kill your school rival with kindness - it was a very different thing to do so, when you had discovered that your feelings towards that very same rival had changed without your permission. 

At breakfast yesterday, Harry had tried his best to keep from gazing in Malfoy's direction, but every time he dared a glance, it had been to find a pair of silver eyes staring at him from across the Hall. The first few times, it had startled Harry to the point where he almost gasped out loud. That was pretty embarrassing. And as much as he tried to focus on the conversations between his fellow Gryffindors, the blond head a few tables away had called him like a beacon, and he found it impossible to keep his eyes away. 

The Slytherin looked unbearably smug, when Harry blushed and looked away. That was when Harry decided to renew his efforts. Crush or no crush, he wasn't about to lose to Malfoy. He had directed his most charming smile at the other man - and reveled in the flush that crept up on those pale cheeks. 

The game was still on. 

Now, as Harry walked towards the Potions classroom with a happily chatting Hermione by his side, he didn't feel quite so confident. It was one thing to smile across a crowded Great Hall at a safe distance; it was quite another working together for two whole hours only a few feet apart. Harry swallowed and entered the lab. 

As it turned out, Harry needn't have worried. Malfoy was quiet and polite, but made no obvious attempts to make Harry feel flustered. It was really rather strange after everything that had happened over the past few weeks. 

When the double lesson was nearing its end, however, Malfoy took Harry completely by surprise. They had just finished cleaning up their workstation, and Harry had returned from a trip to the supply room with some leftover sloth brain mucus, when the Slytherin turned to look at him with a disturbing glint in his eyes. Harry's heart made a curious sort of flip. 

"We're getting really good at this learning-to-work-together thing, Potter. I wouldn't have thought so, but you've become quite an...enjoyable partner." And then he _bit his lip and winked_. 

Harry felt his jaw drop. He quickly picked it up, and by some unknown force from within, he managed to smile and nod. 

"I could say the same for you, Malfoy. Wouldn't have expected it either, but, the two of us - we _work_." 

And it was true. Over the weeks, they had produced perfect potions with a combined effort that bordered on fun. It had been great. 

As Harry left the dungeons, he knew without a doubt that he was in more trouble than ever. He just wished it wasn't his own heart that was in danger.

 

\---

 

The following Saturday evening, the Eighth-Years gathered, as usual, in the common room of their appointed tower to relax and socialize after a busy week. This particular evening had the potential to be of the more festive variety, since Seamus Finnigan had sneaked in two bottles of Firewhiskey. Draco rolled his eyes, as the Irish man produced the bottles from the inside of his robes with a flourish, to happy hoots and whistles from several of the gathered people. 

He was in no mood to participate in this undignified nonsense, and prepared to leave, when he noticed that Potter was amongst those most pleased at the prospect of a night of drinking. He paused. This might be an opportunity he could utilize to his advantage. A drunken Gryffindor would surely be even more susceptible to false flattery than a sober one.... Grinning evilly, Draco sat back down in his comfortable chair and prepared himself for some easy points. 

When two hours had gone by, and the Gryffindor, who Draco had stared down relentlessly for just as long, got up on slightly wobbly legs, Draco smirked and began to rise from his seat in the corner near the fireplace. He didn't get very far, though, since the Gryffindor in question apparently decided to steer directly towards said, secluded corner. Well. A slight change of plans didn't disturb a true Slytherin. He would just have to adjust a little. He wasn't prepared for the happy grin, and the bottom that planted itself on the armrest of his wingback chair. 

"Malfoy!" Potter placed a hand on Draco's shoulder with an ease that suggested that this was not at all out of the ordinary. Draco barely managed to suppress a wince. "Where've you been all night? I _missed_ you!" 

Draco's jaw dropped. This was _not_ the way it was supposed to go! Potter was winning - again! - and that was just _not_ on. Draco had to up his game, quickly. Without giving it proper thought, he slung his arm around the idiot - and immediately wished he hadn't. The other man was warm and solid, and the feeling of his lean waist underneath Draco's hand did nothing for the Slytherin's mental acuity. Quite the opposite. For a moment, he completely forgot that this was a _fierce_ competition with his eternal rival. 

It didn't help that the ever reckless Gryffindor leaned in close, and _breathed_ : "You look really good tonight..." into Draco's ear, his warm, alcoholic breath ghosting against Draco's neck and down the collar of his shirt, causing all sorts of unwanted reactions from his treacherous body. To make matters worse, his arm had apparently decided to tighten its grip around the git, without Draco's permission, resulting in the Gryffindor now actually sitting in his lap. It was a disaster. 

Even if he wanted to, Draco couldn't throw Potter off - and wasn't it odd that he kind of liked the feel and the weight of the man on top of him? - since it would lose him some much needed points. He felt a brief moment of panic, as the weight on his legs shifted, and Potter inched at bit closer, his hand sliding across Draco's back to settle on his other shoulder. Now they were practically _hugging_. Draco's heart raced. A drunken Potter was a thousand times worse than a sober one! Who knew he would be such a huggy drunk?! 

At least, being inebriated was a plausible excuse for being overly friendly, judging by some of the parties held in the Slytherin dungeons over the years. But what kind of reason could Draco have for sitting, completely sober, in a corner of the common room, holding close the Savior of the wizarding world? He had to get rid of Potter, and make it look like the idiot's own idea. But _how_?! 

The idea came to him like a light from above. He would beat Potter at his own game. He smirked wickedly - though he had a feeling it may come across as a bit manic to any onlookers - and placed his other hand gingerly on the Gryffindor's thigh. Again, not his brightest idea, since the thigh in question was indeed just as warm and nice as the man's waist. Well, in for a Knut... He leaned his head to the side and let it rest against the back of the chair, looking Potter in the eye, purring: "Well, what took you so long?" letting the Gryffindor feel the full force of his most smoldering look. 

This also turned out to be a severe lapse in judgment. Potter at a distance, he could handle, but up close....those _eyes_! Could they really see right through you, or was that just a trick of the light? Draco felt his will to fight slip away. Had Potter's jaw been that broad and rugged yesterday? His lips so soft looking and inviting..? 

Draco gasped and tore his gaze away, not daring to move anything besides his eyes. He obviously couldn't trust himself. Of course, that was all Potter's fault with his warm, strong body and tantalizing mouth... Oh, Salazar! What the hell had he got himself into?! He felt a shift in the weight on his thighs, but wasn't brave enough to chance a look at the other man. For once, a lucky decision, since the lips he had admired not ten seconds ago were now pressed lightly against his ear, whispering: "I was waiting for you to make a move..." followed by what could only be described as a kiss to Draco's earlobe.

Okayyy... So, apparently, Potter was a bit more drunk than Draco would have guessed. Meaning that, probably, the Gryffindor's ability to recognize his own boundaries was somewhat fuzzy. Which meant two things - one: Potter had an unfair advantage, and, two: he most likely would hate himself in the morning. The latter wouldn't normally bother Draco in the slightest - if Potter wished to make a fool of himself, it would only amuse Draco. However, seeing as the two of them were competing, it hardly seemed fair that Draco use the other man's inebriated state to get ahead. Sighing inwardly, he put a hand on Potter's shoulder and pushed him back gently. 

"Alright, Potter, I think you've had a bit too much to drink, and while this has been very enjoyable, I do think it's time to go to bed." He leaned back a little to get a better look at the man, and found those bright green eyes looking back at him with a cheeky glint to them. He immediately realized his mistake. 

"Well, well, Malfoy. Here I was, hoping for a kiss... But if you're sure - your room or mine?" He winked - _winked_ \- and Draco felt the same reaction as two weeks ago in Potions, when the git had done it the first time. His cheeks grew impossibly hot, and, horror of horrors, his _trousers_ tightened in the area he least needed them to, with Potter still sitting in his lap. At this point he was ready to just buck the Gryffindor off - to hell with the spectacle it would cause - but, naturally, he was too late. Potter's eyes widened and his lips parted in surprise, as a certain part of Draco's anatomy hardened against his thigh, and Draco wanted to Avada Kedavra himself. 

"Oi! Malfoy! What are you doing to Harry?!" The Weasel's voice boomed across the common room. Of all the moments someone could choose to notice them... "Harry, has he got you in a Body Bind?" The redhead staggered up from his seat and made his way towards them, his wand drawn. 

Oh... Well, maybe this was just the opportunity Draco needed to get away from Potter with his dignity intact...or, at least, without having to explain certain... _reactions_... With a bit of luck, the alcohol would make Potter forget that it ever happened. One could only hope. 

Weasley had finally made his drunken way to their little corner, and pointed his wand unsteadily at Potter, shouting: "Finite Incantatem!" To Draco's infinite relief, and secret gratitude, Potter chose to go along with his friend's ridiculous theory, and got up, shaking his limbs as if he had, indeed, been under a spell. Draco could _kiss_ him. No! No, that was just the kind of thinking that caused this mess in the first place! Draco needed to get away, _now_.

He cleared his throat. "And that, Potter, is why you should always be prepared for anything at any time. Even the simplest of spells could render the greatest of wizards incapacitated, if he is inattentive for even a moment. You should remember that. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have more important things to do than demonstrate the obvious to someone who should know better. Goodnight."

With that, he rose from his chair, making sure to place his, thankfully, voluminous evening cloak strategically over his crotch, and made his way through the common room towards the stairs that led to the dormitories. He pretended not to notice the stares and giggles that followed him the whole way. 

 

\---

 

Harry was in pain. His head felt as if a pack of mountain trolls had used it for a game of football. Even his soft pillow felt like a boulder. He groaned, and immediately regretted it, since the vibrations only worsened the pain. Oh, God, why did he drink so much... He thought back to the previous evening. 

Oh, yeah, Seamus had brought Firewhiskey. Harry felt a wave of nausea by the mere thought of it. There had been a lot of talking and laughing and a general good mood...at some point he had got up to use the toilet, but...something...had caught his attention. He couldn't remember what. Or whom. He didn't even remember if he ever reached the loo. It certainly didn't feel like it at the moment. With a sigh, he rolled out of bed as gingerly as possible and staggered to the bathroom. This was going to be a long day. 

At breakfast, however, Harry felt fantastic. Hermione, bless her, had taken pity on both him and Ron and given them a hangover potion of her own creation. It worked like a charm, and Harry found that his appetite was as healthy as ever. He had just stuffed his mouth with crisp, salty bacon, when Dean's voice cut through his chewing. "Oh, Harry? What was that thing with you in Malfoy's lap last night? Did he really have you in a Body Bind..?" 

The whole table went quiet. Harry himself had even stopped chewing. What was this? Malfoy's lap?! Was that a euphemism - and in that case _for what_?! Harry couldn't very well imagine anything worse. And then it all came back in far too vivid detail... Watching Malfoy surreptitiously for hours, thinking how nice he looked in the light of the fire, and wanting to know whether his hair felt as soft as it looked - wondering at the same time, if he had finally lost his mind along with his heart, and simultaneously being too drunk to care. Then, deciding to find out (oh, lord) and walking over to the blond, and...somehow ending up in his lap?! And then...and then... Harry groaned out loud and hid his face in his hands at the memory of himself _breathing_ into Malfoy's ear and _kissing_ it! What the hell was the matter with him...

And then it hit him. The memory of... _something_...swelling rapidly against his thigh... He sat up straight with a jolt. Malfoy had responded to him. Malfoy. Had. _Responded_. Harry felt the blood rush to his face - but not before taking a detour to his groin. 

Had he been wrong the whole time about Malfoy's feelings towards him? It hardly seemed believable. But he had to find out. 

Summoning all of his Gryffindor courage, he stood up from the table and strode out of the Great Hall. 

 

\---

 

Draco didn't go down for breakfast on Sunday morning. How could he? He had made a gigantic fool of himself in front of everyone, and now he would just have to stay in his room for the rest of the year. The house elves could probably be persuaded to bring him food, and Pansy could take notes for him in classes. Yes, this was a good plan. This way, he would never have to see Potter - or anyone present during Draco's most embarrassing moment - ever again. He would pass his exams and fly away on his broom. Yes. 

There was a knock on his dormitory door, and he almost jumped out of his skin. Remembering that it was probably Pansy, who had promised to bring him some breakfast (though she wouldn't stop laughing as he pleaded with her. It was really quite annoying), he got up from his bed, where he was still lounging in his pyjamas, and opened the door. And immediately tried to slam it shut again. And he would have, if Potter's reflexes weren't so damned fast. He feebly pushed at the door a few times, trying not to acknowledge the trainer-clad foot wedged between it and the doorframe. 

"Malfoy. Let me in." 

Potter's voice was rather persuasive. A nice barytone with a strong core. Not that Draco ever paid any attention to it, of course. It wasn't as if the sound of it sent shivers down Draco's spine - and if it did, it would be in a most displeasing way. Not at all making him weak in the knees or causing his pulse to quicken. _Oh, Merlin_...

He moved away from the door but didn't open it. After a few seconds, it creaked on its hinges, as Potter pushed it open and stepped in. Draco swallowed, as the Gryffindor turned to look at him. And there they were; those frustratingly green eyes with their knowing twinkle to them. How the hell had he not noticed sooner, how dangerous they were? When had they become his undoing? 

Potter cleared his throat, and Draco realized that he, too, was new to this, and probably just as surprised. He certainly looked nervous, biting his lip like that with flushed cheeks...dilated pupils....

Draco swallowed audibly. These thoughts led to nowhere. Never, in a million years, would Potter feel the same way about him. But then again, _why_ had the foolish Gryffindor thrown himself at Draco in that easy manner last night? Whispering in his ear and...and _kissing_ his earlobe? That was an awfully intimate and endearing thing to do, and not something you did to someone you disliked. Draco felt dizzily confused. 

Potter cleared his throat again, before he spoke. "Eh...I just wanted to...apologize for last night... I was drunk, as you probably guessed, and I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. So, I'm sorry about that. I know I'm not exactly your favorite person." He smiled a little, and Draco felt his heart do an odd sort of flip. He took a strengthening breath. Time to be honest. 

"Well, Potter, I think the question is, whether or not you regret sitting in my lap and...kissing my ear... if I told you that I didn't exactly mind...?" At this point, his heart pounded so hard, he was sure the other man must be able to hear it. He felt his blood rushing in his ears, fearing the answer he would receive. 

In front of him, Potter's lips parted in surprise, the tip of a pink tongue darting out to wet them. The effect on Draco's libido was immediate. Potter shook his head and bit his lower lip. "No. In that case, I don't regret a thing."

For once in his life, Draco didn't analyze or overthink - he acted. To hell with repercussions, he just _had_ to feel those delectable lips on his own. He surged forward with an embarrassing groan, and grabbed Potter's face, none too gently - but to his own relief, he managed to slow down enough to press his lips, ever so softly, against the other man's. 

Oh. Heavenly. Bliss. 

Time stood still, as Draco felt Harry's mouth open up to him, slow, yet eager, tongue, tentatively searching. Perfection. Draco would not have expected this. Would have thought their competitiveness would shine through, even in this. 

Ah, there it was.... Harry's hands coming up to push Draco against the wall, kicking the door shut, his tongue licking aggressively into Draco's mouth. _Salazar_ , that felt good! Draco pressed back against the Gryffindor, and this time encountered a hardness that matched his own. Both of them groaned. 

Potter broke the kiss and pulled back slightly, not letting go of Draco. They were both panting from exertion and arousal. Draco looked straight into those mesmerizing eyes, no longer afraid of what they did to him. Fuck, Potter was delicious... 

"Draco..." the sound of his name on those thoroughly kissed lips, breathed like that, almost made Draco lose his mind. He moved to kiss Potter again, but was stopped by a hand on his chest. "Draco, I... I've never done... _this_...before..." He blushed prettily, and Draco felt an unfamiliar surge of emotion in his chest. 

"What, kissed..?" Surely, he must have done a bit more than holding hands with the girl Weasel? 

Potter's blush deepened, but he didn't break eye contact. "Yes, I've kissed. But nothing...beyond that..." He bit his lip again, and Draco wanted to bite it for him. 

"Well, neither have I. I know the rumours about Slytherins and their sexual escapades, but they don't apply to me. I wanted to wait until it meant something. With someone who is truly important to me." Draco couldn't help the smile that spread on his face at the Gryffindor's expression of surprise, relief - and finally, something that looked like awe. 

Harry snaked his arms around Draco, pulling him impossibly close. "Yeah," he whispered, "me too." And then they were kissing again, this time unhurriedly and with great care. 

They had all the time in the world. 

 

\---

 

"So, Amortentia this time." Harry smoothed the page of the Advanced Potions textbook in front of him, and started listing ingredients out loud. 

Beside him, Draco nodded and took mental notes, before he went to the supply room. Harry smiled at him, when he returned with an armful of vials, floating a row of other ingredients in front of him. 

They set to work on the first step of the time-consuming potion in silence, cooperating as if they had been doing it their whole lives. It was almost like a dance: Harry would chop, grind and slice - and Draco would add, stir and adjust temperature. They didn't miss a beat. 

To the other students, it looked as if being boyfriends made them more cooperative and easygoing, and of course, that was part of it. But both Harry and Draco knew that, what had happened, was that not only had they found common ground - they had discovered that they shared the same rhythm. 

The one that beat in both their chests. 

 

**End**


End file.
